Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha. Not now, and never will.
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Mrs. Higurashi sighed as she sat down on the couch. She had managed to keep her calm very well during the last hour or so, she thought, but the truth was that the sudden stress was getting to her. She had never liked the sight of blood, it was why she had never followed up on her years' worth of nurse's training. She had swallowed her fear and helped out as best she could, making certain that the young boy was out of danger before she left him alone. And then of course there was...
There's no reason to feel guilty, she thought, passing a hand over her forehead as she stared up at the ceiling. Kagome can handle herself... and if something happens to him? You know that you didn't make any mistakes while treating him… you know you won't have to walk in there and find a dead body. And as for the other boy... if he was... if either of them were... well, he'd have given something away when you talked to him, wouldn't he? Her own thoughts, much to her chagrin, suddenly took on an almost mocking tone. After all, you of all people would be able to tell...
But the thought didn't make the feeling go away. She was afraid. She very much doubted that she'd be getting much sleep tonight.
What have I gotten into?
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Kagome leaned forwards and looked intently at Inuyasha, again. From just down the hall she could hear splashing noises, presumably from Miroku getting into his bath. She suppressed a laugh as she thought of him turning the wrong knobs on the tub… he'd been through enough already, he didn't need her to start thinking disparagingly of him while he was out of sight. He really did need that bath—he'd been soaking wet, covered in snow and blood alike, and probably freezing cold too.
Inuyasha had been in a much worse state, though. It was understandable, given that he'd just been stabbed, but… for some reason he looked extraordinarily peaceful. Even unconscious, his torso striped with bandages that were rapidly becoming stained with blood, he still managed to seem more… beautiful than anything else in the room. It was almost unreal.
What was this odd feeling, though? She got it every time she looked at him. It was a sense of… well, she couldn't describe it exactly, but it felt dangerous. Like he was dangerous, despite being injured and unconscious. For some reason, he felt wrong, like he didn't belong in this room. And there was another feeling just beneath it… as if, deep down, she really ought to know him.
But that's just silly, she thought, frowning as she tried to puzzle it out. I'd remember if I'd ever met someone who looks like he does.
She leaned back in her chair, wishing that she had the courage to get up, maybe find a book to read, because she should be getting bored soon. But she didn't really want to get up. Maybe if she stayed long enough, she'd figure out what it was about Inuyasha that was so strange.
Her eye fell upon his hands, still within the gloves. They seemed to have been jammed on in a hurry, because some of the fingers were empty and others too thick, and the one closest to her was hanging nearly off the end of his hand.
She reached out and touched the thin fabric, avoiding his skin. These wouldn't do much good in the cold outside. That, coupled with the fact that they weren't on properly, caused a strange new thought to enter her mind: they'd been put on him after he was knocked unconscious. Perhaps by Miroku…? It would have made sense if Miroku had known he would be outside for a long time, and wanted to avoid frostbite. But Miroku had taken him here in the car… so it couldn't be that.
Some other reason then?
She tugged at the glove briefly, seeing whether she would be able to put it on properly without removing it, then, deciding it would be impossible, grabbed hold of all the fingers and pulled.
At first she didn't notice anything odd about the hand that was revealed. She put the glove aside and was about to move on to the next hand when something made her eyes go back.
His fingers… there was something wrong with Inuyasha's fingernails.
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Miroku stood up in his bath—it was much sooner than he would have liked, but he couldn't simply lie about while the situation hadn't yet resolved itself. He looked back at the draining bathwater regretfully as he dressed; the warmth had been so welcome, so comfortable. Kagome had one of the most pleasant bathtubs he'd ever gotten into, despite the confusing knobs.
But he couldn't stay. What if Inuyasha woke up? From his experiences, it took a lot to keep the younger boy down. And if Kagome was the only one with him…
He looked briefly for a fan in the washroom—the hot water had left a lot of steam hanging in the air. Seeing that there was none, he turned off the light and entered the hallway.
Kagome's house was very different from any he'd been in before. Old and creaky, it seemed to have three floors—the shop on the bottom, the living quarters, and then an attic, which he hadn't seen yet but assumed to be there (there were, after all, three rows of windows on the outside of the house). Through a door to his left he could see Kagome's mother getting up from the couch, in a darkened room he took to be some sort of den.
Inuyasha's room was at the end of the hallway. He began walking towards it, softly so as not to create a disturbance, when Kagome's mother stopped him.
"Miroku?" she said quietly.
"Yes, Miss?" he replied, for lack of a better name to call her. Perhaps if he knew her surname…
"Are you… sure you don't know what happened?" she asked.
He nodded. "All I know is that he is badly injured, Miss. What happened to cause that I don't know, but…"
"Is it going to get dangerous?" she wanted to know. "There must be a reason for his condition. Someone did that to him, someone who wants him dead, and they might still be after him!"
Her fear was starting to show in her voice no matter how she tried to hide it. Miroku couldn't help the feeling of guilt that rose inside him. He'd brought this upon them… it wasn't their problem, and he was causing them so much worry…
On second thought, though, it wasn't technically his problem either. Or at least, it didn't have to be. Miroku sighed, more confused than ever. "I'm sorry, Miss," he told the woman. "I don't know what's happening any more than you do, but I will do my best to ensure that your family remains well out of it. Thank you again for helping us."
She waved her hand dismissively. "What else could I have done?"
He regarded her amusedly for a moment, beginning to get a very good idea of where her daughter had gotten a lot of her ideas.
She was already walking away from him, down the hallway to a different bedroom. "Good night, Miroku. Don't hesitate to wake me up if anything happens, all right?"
"Good night, Miss," he said. After a few seconds had passed, he started towards the room where he had left Inuyasha with Kagome.
When he entered the room, he sensed that something was amiss. Kagome was staring at Inuyasha with a very odd look on her face. As he entered, she jumped and turned to face him, revealing Inuyasha's bare left hand.
She took off one of the gloves, thought Miroku, freezing. Oh, no… kami, no!
Kagome blinked up at him a couple of times. "Hey," she said at last, sounding slightly puzzled, "why is Inuyasha wearing fake fingernails?"
Miroku nearly fell over. Keeping himself from doing so, he instead felt the desire to laugh hysterically, and pressed that down as well before he spoke.
"I am not sure, Kagome," he told her, straining to keep his mirth under control. "Perhaps he simply enjoys wearing them?"
It was partially true, he supposed. Inuyasha had always enjoyed using his claws when the two of them were younger…
"Huh," said Kagome, looking back down at his hand. "Really sharp ones, too." She looked up at Miroku. "Do you mind if I take his other glove off? It's warm enough in here, and they can't be comfortable, seeing as how they're put on wrong and all."
"No, by all means go ahead," said Miroku, and leaned against the doorway to watch as she removed his other glove. Perhaps he had put them on a bit too quickly—three of Inuyasha's fingers were jammed into the same space, and the fourth was twisted awkwardly to one side. The glove itself was backwards. He fought down the urge to laugh for a third time. She thinks he's wearing fake fingernails! He was sure his face was red.
Kagome put the second glove beside the first and laid Inuyasha's arm by his side. "Hey Miroku," she said.
He tried to speak normally; it was easier than before, the mirth was quickly leaving him. "Yes, Miss Kagome?"
She frowned slightly at that. "Well, for one thing, stop calling me Miss," she told him. "And for another… how do you know Inuyasha's name? I thought you said you had no idea who he was?"
Well. She had him there. All the humour left Miroku in the space of one fleeting second. What do I say? The answer came back, and it wasn't what he expected. How about… the truth?
"I think I used to know him, Miss… er, Kagome. However, I haven't seen him in many years."
She was watching him guardedly, now. Well, that admission had probably just knocked down a good portion of her trust in him…
"You don't know how he ended up like this?" she asked him cautiously.
Miroku shook his head in response and looked down.
Kagome sighed. "Oh, well." She looked down at Inuyasha, who still showed no signs of waking up.
"Are you tired at all?" she asked Miroku.
He jumped, startled out of the daze he'd been falling into. "Er—no, not really," he said.
He was, very much, but he wouldn't be able to sleep with all of this worry hanging over him. He tried very hard to look bright-eyed and alert; Kagome didn't seem to be falling for it. She was probably tired too, he thought with a pang of guilt. He could see patches of darkness beneath her eyes… dark grey eyes, he noticed idly. Not the eyes of his dream girl, though the rest of her matched well enough.
After a few moments, she left off watching him and stood up slowly. "Are you hungry, then?"
Hungry? …Well, he hadn't eaten in days… he supposed he probably ought to eat something. Sleep could wait, but eating… "I believe I am," he told her.
She grinned. "All right. Come on, follow me. I'll take you to the kitchen and we'll get something to eat."
He let her go through the door first, pausing to turn off the light before following her. She led him to the opposite end of the corridor, into a small, cozy little kitchen with pale blue walls and unpainted brown wainscoting. It was the smallest, most unassuming kitchen Miroku's city-bred eyes had ever seen. He stood for a moment in the doorway, taking in the squat little stove and yellow refrigerator, while Kagome began to go through the cupboards.
"Hm… we don't have an awful lot to eat," she said, pushing aside stacks of canned food. "Well, that doesn't involve cooking, anyway."
"I don't need to eat a lot," Miroku assured her. "Just enough that I won't get hungry later tonight…" No need to disturb these people twice, he thought with a grimace.
"Ah," said Kagome, pulling open a drawer and digging through it. "Maybe just a sandwich, then…"
"That would be fine," said Miroku gratefully.
There was a long period of silence. Miroku sat down at the table, after Kagome refused to allow him to help her. He watched her busy herself with getting ingredients and bread.
He really is tired, thought Kagome, watching Miroku's head droop slightly out of the corner of her eye. Why doesn't he just admit it and go to sleep? She smiled as she answered her own internal question. Because he's worried about his friend, that's why.
Miroku leaned back against the table. Kagome didn't seem to mind the fact that he'd just stormed into her house and dumped a wounded boy on her. Trusting, he thought again, somewhat hazily. Must come from living in such a small town…
"How did you know Inuyasha?" asked Kagome, breaking in on his thoughts. He nearly jumped again but managed to restrain his reaction.
"We were neighbours," he said. "His family lived beside mine."
If you could really call his a family, he added inwardly. Out of all the people he'd known (save perhaps for himself), Inuyasha probably had the strangest home life. It might have been mostly covered up, but Miroku had caught glimpses of it from time to time, flashes of things gone awry, that his younger self hadn't understood. Looking back, though…
"Really?" said Kagome, placing the finished sandwich in front of him, along with a glassful of some sort of juice. "How come you haven't seen him for so long?"
"I moved away," said Miroku, before taking a bite out of the sandwich. When he'd finished the bite he waited for Kagome to ask him something else, then realized that she was waiting for him to continue. "My dad wanted to start a new… project," he said. "So he moved elsewhere in the city. I thought I'd probably seen the last of Inuyasha. Until today, that is."
"Huh." Kagome looked down at the table as he started on the food again. He was hungrier than he'd thought, and the sandwich was gone faster than he liked. Soon the juice—orange juice, it turned out—was gone as well, and Kagome pulled the empty plate out from in front of him. When she didn't immediately remove them for washing, he looked up at her curiously.
"Do you want more?" she asked him, holding up the plate in one hand.
He shook his head. "Thank you, Miss… er, Kagome. I think that's enough for now."
She shrugged, put the plate into the sink and waited for him.
Miroku smiled in contentment as he walked to the door. Now that his stomach was no longer empty, his thoughts were becoming somewhat clearer. Inuyasha would most likely not be waking up very soon… perhaps he ought to go to sleep. He'd be able to think clearer if he did…
"What's it like in the city?" Kagome asked him in a lower voice as they started to walk back down the hall.
Miroku considered. "Loud. Big… well, bigger than this, anyway. Crowded."
She sighed. "I've always wanted to go there. There's so much stuff I want to do… maybe next year, when I graduate, then…"
He looked at her sharply, unable to conceal his surprise. "You're seventeen?"
She nodded, amused. "Yes. How old did you think I was?"
He grinned. "Oh, much younger, Miss Kagome. By a couple of years."
"I told you not to call me Miss," she said teasingly as she opened the door to the guest bedroom and flicked on the light. "I'm not my mom."
He shrugged. "It's habit, I suppose. Please don't take offense."
She looked at him briefly. "Are you sure you don't want to sleep? You still look really tired."
He remembered his decision earlier. "Very well, Mi… Kagome. Do you have another spare bed somewhere?"
"You can take mine," said Kagome. "I'll stay in here."
Miroku twitched. "Are you sure?" he asked, somewhat concerned now. "He doesn't know you. If he wakes up…"
"I'm sure," said Kagome. She glanced over at Inuyasha. "Um… one question, though," she said.
"Yes?"
"Could I take off his hat? It's getting really warm in here, and I don't think it can be very comfortable."
Miroku looked over at Inuyasha too, nervously. "Uh… I don't think that would be a very good idea."
Kagome looked puzzled—she didn't know why she'd asked, she honestly hadn't thought there could possibly be any reason not to remove the toque, but…
"Okay," she said. Fair enough. She gestured towards the doorway Miroku was standing in. "My room is the third door to your left if you walk down the hall. You'll know it's mine because there's no one sleeping in it." She walked over to the chair beside Inuyasha's bed and sat down. After a few moments, when Miroku hadn't moved from the doorway, she turned to look at him. "Aren't you tired?"
"A bit," he said. "But… how is he?"
"Come see for yourself," she said. "He's…" she broke off, leaning forwards suddenly, and staring hard at Inuyasha.
"Wh-what?" said Miroku nervously.
"I think he's waking up!" breathed Kagome.
Miroku was beside her within seconds. It was true. Inuyasha's still-closed eyes flickered, his breathing growing irregular. There was nothing Miroku could do except stand by helplessly as Kagome sat, spellbound, watching a pair of pale amber eyes open slowly.
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Ooh, a cliffhanger! And it's a real bad one this time…
Well, at least he's finally waking up…
And I know I haven't been using ANY of the usual Japanese honorifics in this. It's not because I don't know how, but I just don't really want to here. They wouldn't fit in.